Nobody Ever Asks About Granny
by Katiekat2500
Summary: You know the story of Little Red Riding Hood. That's a given, but what about her little old grandma? Herein lies a tale of bravery, forgiveness, and love that shaped the badass we know today as Granny.
1. The Once Upon A Time

"C'mon kid, time for school, Emma said as she shepherded her son out of the booth gave a wave to Ruby. Henry rolled his eyes and slid out of the booth to follow his mother out the door of Granny's diner. Ruby smiled fondly and started wiping down the booth they had been sitting in and clearing away the hot chocolate mugs. But something shiny caught her eye and the words 'Once upon a time' were suddenly all she could see. Henry had left his treasured book on the seat in the diner in his haste to leave. Ruby picked it up and ran a hand over the cover. She understood what it contained and just how important it was. Then a rather wolfish grin over-took her pretty face. She glanced at the diner and saw that breakfast rush was over and it was nearly empty with only a few people sitting at the counter. Then she peeked at Granny typing something in at the cash register and made her decision. She headed towards the storage fridge.

She couldn't bring herself to regret not returning Henry's book as soon as she found it. It could have all the answers she ever wanted to know about her grandmother. As she reclined against a sack of apples in the walk-in refrigerator, Red's fingers danced across the page of Henry's storybook. If this book truly had everything from their world's history written down, it had to have what she was looking for. Granny had never been very forthcoming about her past, or about Red's grandfather, but now Ruby could know the truth without her ever being the wiser. Her eyes lit up when she found it: her granny's story. The picture in front of the story was charming. The firelight danced across the walls of a cottage in the woods as a little girl in pigtails was bounced on her father's knee. Taking a deep breath she began to read. "Once upon a time..."


	2. The Calm Before the Wolf

"Papa, why do I have to stay home? I want to come and help." Her brothers chuckled as they gathered around the little one. Her little red curls shining copper against the cheery hearth.

"Because Bridgett, her eldest brother Christophe answered, big bad wolves just love to gobble up sweet little girls like you." Her eyes widened a bit and she jumped as her brother jokingly danced his fingers across her ribs like claws.

"Now, now, don't scare the poor lamb; she won't sleep a wink if you do." Her papa's voice rumbled like a carriage on a gravel road. She curled closer to him in his lap and shook her head diffidently

"Who's afraid of the big bad wolf? Not me! I bet you are Philippe!" Bridgett's hair bounced back and forth as she teased.

"Not I, in fact, I shall prove it to you when I bring you home a pelt of fur big enough to make you a coverlet and a coat, and mittens and new boots and anything else your little heart could wish." He said grandly kneeling in front of her. She impulsively threw her arms about his neck. He was fifteen and the closest to her in age and heart.

"Promise?" The little girl whispered

"Promise." came his solid reply.

Then they heard a knock at the door. "Oh, that must be Widow Peters to look after you while we're gone." Papa rumbled. Bridgett excitedly leapt from her fathers lap and bolted to the door. She wrenched the door wide and looked angelically up at the good widow before flinging herself into her arms.

"My my, Dear Thing, have you gotten taller or am I shrinking!? How old are you now my girl!?" In truth Bridgett was still much smaller than she should have been for a girl her age. The kind woman pried the girl from the folds of her dress to look down on her smiling face.

"Nine summers!" She boasted proudly.

"Nine summers!? Well, my sweet, you're very nearly a lady, now aren't you? Well, don't keep standing there like a tree in the wood; let me in child, I'll catch my death in this cold!" Bridgett ran from the door to chatter excitedly to her brothers about the new coat she wanted to have made from the skin of the wolf

Abraham, her father, stood to welcome the older woman. "Widow Peters, thank you for watching over Bridgett while we hunt the beast."

Glancing over to make sure Bridgett was out of earshot, Widow Peters pursed her lips until they were white and hissed "Your a damn fool Abraham, scores of hunting parties have tried to kill that monster and are all rotting in their graves."

Abraham's booming laugh rang out "But they did not have the skill my sons and I have. Remember, we fought and won the second ogre war."

"Yes well, if you leave Bridget fatherless and brother-less it will not matter where you fought now will it? The poor girl is already going to grow up without a mother, don't take away the rest of her family too." She said softly.

Abraham's face grew solemn "This beast proves more dangerous to her alive than dead. Have you seen the bodies of the children who have been victims? I promise you, good widow, that if I were not certain we could take down the beast we would be at home by the fire tonight. I shall leave my crossbow with you should anything happen."

Widow Peter's sighed. "I suppose if I can't dissuade you I must have faith in your strength and send my prayers with you."

Abraham nodded "Your prayers are appreciated, but I hope they will not be needed."

She sighed again "For Bridgett's sake, Abraham, I hope so too. You'd better go if you want to get a head on that wolf before it reaches the village tonight."

"Alright then, thank you again, then louder addressing the room full of men as tall as trees, Boys! It's time we'll head out to the interior forest, as far away from the village as we can manage, there the others will be waiting for us. We'll want to head it off before it can get to close to the town. Grab your weapons men!"

Patrick handed Bridgett to Widow Peters as the brothers gathered their spears and daggers.

"Alright dear, say goodbye to your papa and brothers." Widow peters held out the child so she could peck the cheek of each man.

"Goodbye Christophe, goodbye Patrick, goodbye, Jacob, goodbye Nathan, goodbye Stephan, goodbye Philippe., when she got to her father she paused before flinging herself out of widow peter's arms into his whispering, goodbye Papa." He squeezed her tightly before setting her on her feet and kissing her forehead. Then he headed out to join his sons to start the hunt.

As Bridgett watched her family head away into the woods, a fist of worry knotted in her stomach before she quickly and firmly untangled it. It wouldn't do any good to worry. Her papa and brothers had never had an unsuccessful hunt; they were the protectors of the town for a reason. So she tamped down her fear and waved her arm until Papa's broad shoulders disappeared into the trees.


	3. The Wolf's Massacre

**A/n Hello friends! I thought I would leave a little note to thank whoever happens to read this story. This chapter's a bit longer, and a bit more gruesome. So if you have an especially weak stomach you can skip this chapter without being too out of the loop.**  
**Many Huggles- Kate**  
That night, Bridgett and Widow Peters made cookies for the men when they came home. With the smell of cookies wafting through the house, Bridgett took her bath and let the old lady help her into her white nightdress. She reluctantly went up to bed. As she tried to sleep, her excitement only festered deeper as she let her mind wander to the hunt that was taking place tonight. The wolf had been terrorizing the village for only a few months, but it was enough to cause at least thirty deaths, mostly children. The adults of the village had gotten frightened so they picked up their weapons and formed a hunting party with her father and brothers at the forefront.

It had been the talk of the town for weeks earlier. There had even been a feast in its honor the night before. She had worn her little red frock to the feast with flowers embroidered onto it, because red repels wolves, and bright red ribbons in her hair. She had danced and laughed and her brothers spun her about. She played with the other children and ate sweat meats and was so happy she could cry.

She had almost wished there was a wolf hunt every year. That is, she wished it just as she was wondering where her friend Willa was. Then she remembered how the classes at the school-house had lessened and how Willa would never come back to school again. That she would never teach Bridgett how to braid her hair, or how to skip rope, or any of the things little girls who didn't have mothers or sisters had to rely on their best friends to teach them. Suddenly, a wolf to hunt every year seemed much less worth the excitement of a feast.

Then she worried, Willa had not had a wake. No one had been allowed to see the body. Bridgett was a touch too smart for her own good. The poor girl had also had experience with death. She put two and two together and realized that if no one had seen the body but her papa and Willa's parents, there must not have been much body left to show. What kind of beast was this, which her papa and brothers had gone out to fight without a thought? Still, Willa had only been three summers older than Bridgett herself and not much bigger. Her papa and brothers stood as tall as houses and were sturdy like the oaks in the Deep. They would be fine, she assured herself. Better than fine, they would be victorious.

Self assured she snuggled deep into the warm covers and started to let her eyes droop close, comforted by dreams of skip-rope and wolf skins. Until a very loud sound wrenched her eyes open and made her blood rush through her veins like the sudden jolt when someone catches the rope of your swing in mid-air. She was so immersed in her dream that she wasn't sure what the sound was; only that it had woken her up. Bridgett contented herself with the hope that it was Widow Peters closing the door somewhere in the cottage downstairs.

But then she heard a different noise—shouting, coming from beyond her window. She squeezed her eyes tight and tried to block it out. Maybe they hadn't found the wolf, maybe the astrologers were wrong and wolves-time started tomorrow instead. Wolves-time only lasted about three days; maybe the wolf wasn't ready to come out yet.

That pretty thought, lasted about five seconds before she heard the most hideous sound she had ever heard, or would ever hear, in her life. The sharp grating howl that ripped through the air was one she had heard before during wolves-time, but this one was much closer than it had ever been before. She hoped to whatever god was listening that it was a howl of pain. That Christophe or Philippe or Stephan had handed the wolf its own hide. But the shouts grew louder. So she crept out from between her covers and peeked from the window. There were shadows approaching the cottage quickly. She couldn't see who they were, so she decided to creep onto the roof for a better view.

"Bridgett!" She heard Widow Peters call up to her. She ignored her and made the very foolish decision to let the woman think she was asleep. She swung her leg out the window and in a well practiced maneuver; she flung herself up into the thatch. She winced as she heard the howl again, this time not 50 feet from her. She quickly burrowed down into the old straw, ignoring the pricks and scratches on her arms and legs. She didn't count the seconds it took for the shouts and snarls to get impossibly louder. It felt like an eternity lying belly down on the roof covered by the yellow straw as though it were summer, and she was playing hide and seek with Philippe. But this wasn't hide and seek, and it was so cold, she was sure her breath would freeze into snow and fall into the white drifts on the ground.

And then in a flurry of motion so startling she nearly cried out, the scene suddenly came into view and burned itself into her memory forever. Her brothers,_ except Christophe- where was Christophe?!,_ and Papa came hurtling into the yard of the house with their backs turned to her. She was sure she could hear Widow Peters beckoning, _screaming_ for her to come downstairs but she couldn't peel her eyes away. Followed by the biggest most repulsive _thing, animal, creature,_ she had ever seen, a hulking mass of black fur and sheer muscle as tall as a horse, with yellowed razor like teeth. She could see his muzzle dripping some repulsive mixture of blood and saliva where it stood. And worse, it was just standing there, snarling. The it's hulking gold eyes rolled up slowly and—was she going crazy or did it_ look at her_— landed on the spot she was laying on the roof and something changed in its eyes, something human— something terrifying.

The men crowded around it, pointing their spears defensively. She knew a second before it occurred, what was about to happen, so she wasn't sure why it strangled all sound from her throat, silencing her. The beast lunged so fast she wasn't sure she had seen it, breaking the thick wooded spear in Patrick's hand in two. In a frenzy it continued breaking spears and snapping its jaws, so fluid, the sight was gruesomely beautiful. Before long Papa and her brothers were only left with splintered sticks to defend themselves. Then, before he could run, before he even had the chance to scream, the beast lunged at Philippe locked its massive jaws around his throat and _riiiiiiiippppppped._ A sickening gurgle bubbled up from his lips. His neck snapped as the wolf consumed its soft flesh. In a spatter of blood he fell to the ground, eyes still wide.

He couldn't scream, but she could have screamed for him. She should have screamed for him. She should have climbed back through the window and ran to Widow Peters burying her face in the soft folds of her gown. She should have done something. But she just laid there, her brothers blood splattered on her wide eyed face, her tears washing it away as they streamed down silently. She couldn't move, couldn't breath, as she watched her brothers scream in rage at the sight of Philippe dead on the ground. One by one each brother took their duel with death and lost, some ripped right down the middle, some with necks snapped, until only Papa remained, screaming and crying and— _Oh how she wanted to tell her papa to run, run so she could have him back at home, run so she wouldn't be an orphan, run so they could eat cookies and tell stories and mourn her brothers together, **run papa!**_

But her papa was too brave, too stubborn, he wanted the town safe, but the wolf wanted the town dead and the wolf had bigger jaws. Bridgett felt her body unfreezing and vaguely heard Widow Peters frantically searching for her in the room below. The wolf lunged for her papa and pinned him with a sickening _CRUNCH_, as if celebrating its victory. Her vocal chords unfroze and she foolishly screamed "PAPA!" His face turned up to hers eyes staring up at her as the wolf finished him. He was still staring as she lunged forward and tumbled down, down, down off of the roof and into her worst nightmare


	4. The Aftermath and the Bite

Chapter 4 The aftermath of the bite

She first registered the harsh sound of breathing and something wet and warm on her back. Wait, that didn't make sense, she landed on her back in snow. Why would snow be warm? Unless— it wasn't snow— she opened her eyes and looked around. Her white nightdress suddenly had red blooms all over it. She realized—she was laying in blood, and not just any blood, the blood of her family. She was possessed by the urge to retch, but was frozen by a sight worse than her family being slaughtered.

The wolf was hovering over her, looking quizzically at her, growling softly. Bridgett whimpered as the wolf lowered his snout to her neck and inhaled. If she was frozen before, she suddenly had the need to run now. She squirmed wincing when the bruising on her back ached and pained her sharply. She felt every sensation vividly, the sharp twinge in her leg, the blood in her hair and on her back and on her hands, the beast bearing down on her, the screams of Widow Peters still searching for her in the room above, her own breathing coming in short gasps.

Then, the eyes of the wolf were inches away from her own as he nudged her face and body with his bloodstained muzzle. Suddenly they disappeared and pain exploded into her right arm. Her head whipped toward her arm only to see the wolf's wet jaws clamped around it, tugging. She screamed loud enough to wake the dead and ripped her arm away tearing the skin, and rolled onto her side, curled around herself.

A sudden cry behind her told her that Widow Peters had found the gory scene. She tried to call out to the Widow, tell her to run, hide, but she found herself only able to clutch her arm to her chest and stare ahead into Philippe's cold, dead eyes beside her as she bled profusely. She heard the wolf make quick work of the kind woman. Bridgett trembled as the wolf made her way back to her, sniffing at her and nudging at her again before running away into the night howling like a banshee, leaving her with an injured arm and seven dead bodies. And for the first time that night, she cried. Then shouts and cries of "Bridgett!" filled the air. The last thing she heard before everything went black. She wondered why they had not come sooner.

* * *

Bridgett winced as the sound of breaking glass permeated the quiet night. She tiptoed past the row of cots out into the kitchens to find little Johanna standing stock still in front of a shattered glass. She sighed "You need to be more careful Jo', anyone else would have had your hide for waking them up."

The little girl blushed "I just wanted some water."

Another sigh from Bridgett "Fine, but then, off to bed" she pointed a stern finger at her and Jo nodded enthusiastically. Bridgett swept the shards of glass into the corner, got Johanna a new glass, filling it from the simple pump—donated to the orphanage by a nearby lord—,and sent her off to bed.

As soon as the little girl retreated to the sleeping hall, Bridgett ripped off the scarf on her forearm examining the marks that were now throbbing sharply under the moonbeams from the window. This had been happening for a while now. Every full moon the pain in the bite would become so intense; she had to bite down on her pillow to keep from waking the other girls. It had been getting worse in the recent months, and was almost unbearable in the months before her upcoming birthday.

She hadn't told anyone of it of course. Some had tried to persuade the village council to burn her at the stake when they first saw the wolf's mark on her forearm. This idea was only furthered when Christophe's betrothed found his mangled corpse in the woods a week later; it was she that all but demanded that any trace of the wolf be banished. Even if that meant killing her beloved's little sister. Her father's and brothers' past contribution to the village's safety is what saved her in the end.

From that point on, she was a source of mystery and suspicion in the town...On the other hand, she wasn't just a mystery, she was a warning; a living breathing symbol of what happens to those foolish enough to go out during wolves-time. An omen to those who thought hunting the wolf was possible. Nearly four summers later and she was still a horror story told to children. Those same children stared at her scarf-covered arm when she passed them in the street, half frightened, half intrigued.

Even now as the throbbing persisted in her arm she had a theory about what was happening. The wolf was tracking her. Each full moon the pain got worse and worse until eventually it would find her and finish the work it set off to do four summers ago. One thing she knew. She didn't want to be around Johanna or Lila, or Beth, or anyone else from the orphanage when it happened.

She snuck quietly around the kitchen wrapping various foods into a checkered tablecloth. She rushed past the cots to her own, hoping to any god out there that the other girls hadn't heard her. She reached under and grabs a large satchel and the two dresses she owned. Dressing quickly, she packed a blanket, her bar of soap, and the rest of her meager possessions, shoving them in quickly.

She practically flew to the kitchen, nearly injuring herself as she ran into a warm body that caught her by her small shoulders before she fell. Kit, one of the older girls stood looking at her groggily. "Bridgett? What are you doing up?"

Bridgett righted herself and huffed "I could ask you the same thing."

"Yes, you could, she answered smirking, but you won't, because you know that I heard you rummaging around, which was what woke me up wasn't it?" Bridgett fiddled with her satchel nervously before pushing past her into the kitchen. A worried look passed over Kit's face. "Wait, you... Aren't leaving are you?"

"And if I am?" She kept her eyes downcast as she tried to stuff the food-filled tablecloth into the satchel.

"Why, what's going on? You can't go now; it's almost wolves-time." She lowered her voice as though someone was listening nearby.

Bridgett still wouldn't look at her. "I know, that's why I'm going." She succeeded in filling her satchel and turned toward the door.

"What are you talking about, Bridgett? Talk to me, I can help you!"

"No you can't" she answered shakily and started to walk out the door.

"Wait! Bridgett, stop! Please!" She grabbed Bridgett's bare forearm tightly, quickly retracting her hand when Bridgett hissed in pain and lashed out.

Kit's voice wavered "What's going on Bridgett?"

Bridgett shook her head a bit but finally faced her "I have to leave... because if I don't, you'll all be in danger. She pushed back some of the bright red hair that fell into her face, my mark, it's burning, and I know it means something. I can't take the risk of being around all of you in case the wolf comes for me."

Kit gaped "What? So you're just going to...to sacrifice yourself, is that it?"

Bridget shook her head curls flying "No no, it's just... I can't... more lives will be lost than necessary if I don't go somewhere more... Remote"

Kit still gaped at her "that may be the most stupid, ridiculous thing you've ever said to me."

"It isn't ridiculous, it makes sense!"

"In what realm does it make sense for you to sacrifice yourself to a wolf that May, or may not be coming to eat you?!" Kit's voice rose but was quickly hushed by Bridgett.

"Try as hard as you want, but you won't change it. My mind's made up."

"I'll stop you!" Kit tried again; "I'll go tell Madame Della right now!"

She made no move to stop her "no you won't, because if you do I'll tell them why I was leaving, and I'll be strapped to pyre so fast it will make your head spin, and I'll have still succeeded."

Kit's eyes widened as she realized there was nothing she could do. "But... Where will you go?"

Bridgett sighed "the woods I need to get as far from civilization as possible."

Kit's eyes were brimming with tears as she yanked Bridgett into her arms. "If you survive, let me know that you're alive, I'll bring you food once a month if you need to stay hidden."

She sighed and buried her face in her friend's shoulder. "I will, and Kit?"

Kits body was shaking with sobs by now "Yes, Bridgett."

"Thank you, for teaching me how to braid my hair." She sniffed

Kit looked confusedly at her but hugged her again anyway. "I'll cover for you in the morning, just don't get caught and please, be careful..."

"Don't worry, Kitty, we'll see each other again. I know it." And with that, she slipped out of Kit's arms and slipped quietly out the door. She didn't look back.


End file.
